


A Sense of Self

by sabaceanbabe



Category: Farscape
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-02
Updated: 2010-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:49:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaceanbabe/pseuds/sabaceanbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>A light seemed to dim behind his blue eyes, although it didn't go out.  Aeryn didn't think anything could put that light out entirely.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sense of Self

Aeryn stared at the plate Crichton had set in front of her – he'd made a design of the food cubes. She frowned slightly and glanced up at his cheerful face. Clearly, he hoped for a certain reaction from her and when he didn't receive it, his friendly and open expression became shuttered. A light seemed to dim behind his blue eyes, although it didn't go out. Aeryn didn't think anything could put that light out entirely.

"It's a happy face," Crichton supplied helpfully.

She arched one brow. _A happy face?_ "They're food cubes," she stated, simultaneously irritated and amused, an effect he frequently had on her.

"No, see?" He began to explain, pointing a finger at the plate and tracing a shape in the air above it. "The pattern forms a…" His voice trailed off into a disappointed sigh. "Never mind."

Dipping her head toward the plate to hide a smile, Aeryn took up a fork and stabbed an orange cube, destroying Crichton's "happy face." As she chewed, she realized that the cubes had an odd taste, somehow better than usual. Which made no sense. As she'd told Crichton, they were food cubes. Except for when she'd been recovering from her near-transformation into a Pilot, food cubes never tasted like anything but food cubes. And during that time, they'd tasted like rotten fruit.

Across from her, Crichton rested his arms on the table and his eyes on her face. "Food still taste funny?" he asked, his tone sympathetic, and she nodded, not wanting to give him any further explanation. Not wanting to appear – or feel – foolish. And that was odd, too. This was Crichton. How could she possibly appear foolish to Crichton?

"What was the worst part?" he asked when she didn't reply.

An innocent question, and yet it caused Aeryn to stop chewing, made the cube in her mouth turn suddenly dry as dust, nearly choking her. She reached for her glass of water to wash it away.

"Aeryn?" Crichton prodded, as he always did.

She looked at him and wondered just what he saw when he looked at her. The physical effects of what Namtar had done to her, done to all of them, were fading – even Pilot's arm was beginning to grow back – but what he had done to them inside…

Aeryn frowned again. What to say to make him understand when she didn't understand it herself? "I've always thought of myself in terms of survival, life and death, keeping the body alive."

It was all she knew, or at least, it had been. She was a Peacekeeper, a soldier. Surviving to perform her duty was all that mattered. Since the microt she'd been forced into this fugitive existence, small chinks in the invisible armor she'd built around herself over the cycles had begun to appear, more and more every day, until finally she'd taken a chance with Namtar. A chance that might have resulted in a life somewhere that wouldn't have involved looking over her shoulder, running.

Again she met Crichton's eyes, his filled with concern, with that frelling _compassion_ that he never seemed to be without. "What Namtar did to me. It was me… inside. The real me."

"You would've fit in on Earth just fine," Crichton said, a smile playing on his lips.

She had no idea what she had said to prompt his words. Uncomfortable with the weight of his gaze, Aeryn tilted her head. "Do you think that's a compliment?" she asked. She thought that it probably was meant to be one, his way of trying to put her at ease.

Crichton dropped his eyes, but the smile remained. Rather than answer her, though, he pushed back from the table and swept up her now empty glass, took it to the refrigeration unit to refill it. Aeryn watched him walk away, not really paying attention to him. She had learned many things these past few days, both about herself and about her traveling companions.

For the first time in her life, Aeryn Sun had been truly frightened. She hadn't been concerned with her own survival or with fulfilling her duty to the best of her ability, but with her self, with her individuality. And that was another thing that she could lay at the feet of Crichton and these fugitives aboard Moya. A sense of individuality in a soldier was a liability, something that could get that soldier or her unit killed.

And yet…

Something had changed in her perceptions and that change had very little to do with the chemical and physical changes that Namtar had forced on her. She no longer viewed these people quite the way she had before – the utter ruthlessness of their actions had been quite surprising – and it would take yet more time for her to adjust to that changed view, to decide just who and what she wanted to be with regard to this ship and her mismatched crew.

Aeryn was sure of only one thing – there was no going back. After what had been done to her, even more so than the contamination of simply associating with aliens and criminals, the life of a Peacekeeper was closed to her.

Crichton returned with two full glasses of water, slid one across the table to her. Aeryn's hand closed around the cool surface, damp with condensation, accepting his offer.


End file.
